"Do you know that you are already 200? Have you already bought yourself a black package?". In Threads, a mobilized IT worker keeps a diary of his service in the army - about communication with the TCC, thoughts on the SZCH and IT experience in the non-digital system of the Armed Forces of Ukraine

It’s worth starting with the fact that my busification was quite gentle, that is, without violence. I had nowhere to run, so I listened to the news that I was wanted and «agreed» to get into the bus and drive around «to clarify the data.»

While I was sitting in a stupor, not realizing what had really happened, the bus drove through the yards in search of the others. Two managed to escape, one was without a passport (for some reason, after a long conversation, they did not accept him), and two more were near the drinking fountain on Sunday morning. For some reason, the TCC guards were not interested either. When they brought me in, they «asked» me to turn off my phone and hand it over to the guard. Then they took me to an office for registration. There were two men in civilian clothes, not very pleasant and friendly in appearance. After clarifying my data, there was a dialogue (the names are fictitious):

— Why did we, Nikolai Olekseevich, hide for 4 years?

I don’t remember what he answered. Then there was a sudden switch to «you.»

— Where are you from?

I say the name of the city in the east.

— Yes, and what the hell am I, from Kiev, obliged to fight for you, tell me!

— You don’t have any.

— Yes, why were you hiding? Go and defend your home from the bastards!

I’m silent, because whatever I say will only make things worse.

— Come on, now you will go to the VLK.

I needed to buy time, so I refused, said I wouldn’t go that day.

— You, fucking, don’t want it in a good way, okay, it will be in a different way. Close the doors.

The second one connects, turns on the «good cop.»

— Tolya, calm down, these are not our methods.

He turns to me: listen, you don’t want to go to the VLK, fine, then go straight to the DShV, there they will decide what to do with you. Is that okay?

Something distracted them, then two more come in, asking if they should take me to the VLK, because they were supposed to close early on Sunday. I disagree, but I answer politely and calmly, not rudely. The first one says:

— That’s all, bitch, you’re going to the DSHV tomorrow, damn it. Take away the ego.

Then I waited for a long time in front of the office, where I wrote to my girlfriend through another guy that I had been taken to the CCC. In general, it seemed that the long wait in the corridor for 1-2 hours was a conscious step on their part and a certain psychological pressure.

During this time, I talked to recruiters from 82 or 95 DSHV, I can’t remember for sure, and also with a nice guy from SBS. But I was in such a state that I almost don’t remember what they told me and what I answered.

They took me to the barracks, where I spent a day and night, and the next day I went through the VLK under the escort of three TCC officers in 15 minutes, and a couple of doctors never examined me because they weren’t there, so the head doctor signed and stamped for them (they had their own separate office in the clinic, with a stern woman from the TCC who drove these TCC officers away). When I told him about it, he asked, «What, is something bothering you?»

After this circus, I returned to the TCC, where the guy who sent me to the DShV unexpectedly said that I was a pretty good guy (why would that be?), and since I fiddle with computers, I’ll be a clerk. But I have to sign the document now, they don’t give me any other choice. There (they say the unit number), or DShV. I sign. They make me a military ID. I sit waiting for a couple of hours that passed in an instant, they don’t give me the phone. I think about what I’ve gotten myself into, I twist different scenarios in my head, until a person from the unit comes to pick me up.

When I was busified, I had to spend a day and a half in the «barracks» of the Central Military District, where people like me were waiting for their future fate. Some were to be taken to the VLK (like me), others to the training ground, and still others — I don’t even know what they did there. I’ll talk about them later.

But first, the conditions: bunk beds, a TV with Russian dubbing of all the movies that were playing there, dirty dishes, an unrealistically dirty toilet, a shower that no one dared to use, cookies and tea, a box with a couple of rations left, a metal fence with barbed wire and a camera, a guard who couldn’t hear half the words. There were no lunches, nor dinners.

As for the people, I was surprised by how calm most of them looked: they were watching a movie, talking to others, some were discussing the brigade they would be in, others were laughing in the smoking room, while I lay there staring at one point and barely closed my eyes all night.

But there were other characters: a guy who shouted random phrases into the air, as if he were having a dialogue with them. At first, everyone turned to him, thinking he was talking to someone, and then they were shocked. He was constantly looking for something in his backpack, saying he had lost something, walking from his backpack to the street and back, and so on for 5 hours with breaks.

One of them, still in the CCC «office» before my eyes, began to have epileptic convulsions. Their chief CCC came out, calmly looked at him, and went back to his office while a couple of men laid him on his side and lifted his head. 5 minutes later, an ambulance arrived, 2 women, and these men helped them carry him out.

But there was one mentally ill person who I was really a little afraid of. In the yard, he asked to walk the chickens, and he shouted and swore that they wouldn’t open the door for him, and he tried to break it down, for which he received a strong beating from some TCC employee.

Inside, in the evening, he began to look for this door in the wall where the TV was, under the boys' beds, moving them, for which he received many threats and a punch in the shoulder from one man. This did not stop him, and with short breaks he continued his search, shouting that the hidden door was definitely there, he just had to find it, he pressed his head against the wall and the floor, listened, tapped his knuckles, shouted something strange and incomprehensible. This was until late at night, until he was taken somewhere.

There was another TCC officer who came a couple of times and told the guys what shit they were all and 200, and he was a cool stormtrooper. At one point I went out to make a call from someone else’s phone, which was forbidden. When he saw me, he said that I was fucked up, and if he saw me like that again, he would take the phone and give me a slap. I said that I understood.

And all this time, some guys were being taken away and new ones were being brought in. And I just lay there, listening to movies that made it even worse, and making sure that this mentally ill person didn’t crawl under my bed.

It was quiet in the morning, my turn came, and they took me to the VLK. But that wasn’t very interesting, except that I was alone under the escort of 3 TCC officers, one in front, two behind, who were taking me, a skinny project manager with glasses, to receive papers with the conclusion «fit».

In the first days in the unit, all the newly mobilized men had a personal conversation with the unit’s psychologist. Almost all the men were skeptical about this, to put it mildly:

«What does this brainwasher want? I won’t tell him anything.»

— Shit, can we do without this?

— Fuck him, he’ll still be putting his psychological tests on me.

I was interested, because I generally take psychology as a science quite seriously and with respect.

I go into his house. A small, short man is sitting there, smiling. We shook hands, introduced ourselves. He started with questions about my education and work — to warm up. I talked for a long time about what I know and can do. I wanted to «sell» myself as a manager and IT specialist. I listened, took notes. Then he asked a question I didn’t expect:

— What would you do if someone in your management did something illegal? I answer, «I would think first, assess the situation.»

He:

— What if it’s someone from the lowest rank? I say it’s the same thing, you need to think, figure it out, situations are different, you need more specifics.

He twisted his mind, and somehow skillfully brought to light WHAT I had been doing for these four years, and concluded that I had also been living illegally for these years. I think he probably wanted to see if I would make excuses. I didn’t want to do that.

I say yes, I ignored it, I admit it.

He:

— Yes, you ignored reality.

But he said it without arrogance and without any desire to poke fun. At least I didn’t feel it.

He said that he had also gone through something similar. He was mobilized, taken from work, but eventually he took a position in the army that was close to him. As far as I remember, he was a senior lieutenant.

Then he continued:

— This is an attempt to escape from reality. You were engaged in work, management, you say, you had forecasting there, but you missed your real, most important forecasting — with the war. You didn’t think about it in advance, you didn’t foresee it.

I answer him absolutely sincerely that it is so, I did not deal with this issue, which is why I found myself in such circumstances.

Then there were questions and answers on various topics, and somewhere I said that I was thinking all this time about myself, but not about my loved ones, not about how they might feel if I was mobilized.

And he says: «No, you didn’t think about yourself or your loved ones.»

I say that I was thinking about other areas of myself, about the future, preparing myself for life after the war.

And he said: «Yes, but you missed the present, life during the war.»

He also asked about friends: what is friendship, how do I make friends, what is fraternity? I say that I have no experience with fraternities, I can’t say.

He: «You’re very selective,» or some such word, that I’m picky about who I choose my close people.

At first I didn’t understand what it was about. I said no, it was all spontaneous, I had different friends based on social status and character, I got close to some very quickly, and to others more slowly.

Then he asks how I support myself.

— I have certain meanings and values.

He says: «I’m sure of this, but how do you help yourself?»

— Well, when I’m very excited, I breathe deeply (the parasympathetic nervous system is activated, all that).

Then he asked if there was anyone who supported me. I said yes, my beloved, we have been together since we were 18.

And he said: «Well, you say it’s not selective.»

I think, in general, yes, it’s hard for me to let new people in, and almost all of my friends and relatives are now either from school or university.

We talked for about 15 minutes, while with other men the conversations didn’t last longer than 5-7 minutes. We ended abruptly, without any logical ending. He just said that everything would be fine.

At the end of our meeting, the psychologist reached out to hug me (I didn’t mind, I even got emotional at some point during the conversation, because he was the first person outside my circle of friends with whom I could talk about everything that had happened, from a psychological perspective, and at approximately the same level of communication and understanding.

And he also said that it was very nice and unusual that there were still people like me. I still don’t understand what he meant.

After some time, I learned that he had recommended me and another guy my age (as everyone like us was called there — «AIT guy») to the leadership for staff positions. Only from one man (50 years old, very pleasant to me) I heard about his relatively positive experience after this «session». He said: «This psychologist is interesting. He could be an investigator: he wraps up the question like that — he will get everything.»

Me and 4 other men from the CCC were taken straight to the unit. Maybe because of priority, or it was an agreement — I don’t know. At the time, it was suspicious and only added to the stress. As it turned out later, there were 30 of us. «Our battalion is new, infantry, we are clearing it, so no one will storm. And in general, they won’t send us anywhere for another 4 months, and then the war will end,» the officer at the wheel reassured us. I didn’t believe him, but he was almost right about the 4 months.

We arrived at the unit late, it was dark, the ground creaked after the rain. We were immediately sent to provide data for clothing sizes, the sergeant was very friendly and addressed us as «you». Then we were taken to an improvised dining room, where there was already cold soup and sandwiches. Then another lieutenant took us to our wooden houses (as they said, Finnish type).

Ours had a kitchen with a leaky kettle from 1989 (a company-owned one, I bought it myself), a window covered in wallpaper, and a smelly refrigerator.

There was also a room with a sink (there was no running water, you had to get it in a barrel), and three living rooms: officers lived in two, and we, 8 newly mobilized people, lived in the third: a tractor driver, a crane operator, an irrigation systems specialist, a repairman, a kindergarten security guard, a welder, an unemployed person, and I, an «AIT member.» We were the first.

I went through a BZVP with these people a couple of weeks later.

In the room, in addition to bunk beds, there was a table, a chair, a large Banderpich stove relative to the size of the room, and wet firewood next to it.

I went in, we got to know each other. My bunk was upstairs. They were heating it at night, so it was like being in a bathhouse for half the night, and when the coals went out in the morning, I covered myself with a jacket. I hardly slept, I woke up, sometimes for the first few seconds I couldn’t understand where I was, I breathed deeply, because I was constantly feeling anxious. Every next morning began with formation, where we were informed about the plans for the day. They gradually explained to us the army rules, that now we were soldiers, there had to be discipline, get used to it.

No one followed us, the check was only in the morning (later it was added in the evening, when there were more of us), and the territory was lightly fenced, so it was possible to climb over the low fence without any problems, even during the day. During the entire time we were there, no one did this.

Over the next week, we received our uniforms, all our equipment, and chevrons, took DNA swabs, studied the AK-74's performance characteristics, tried to assemble, disassemble, and clean it, talked to the medic about technical training and why after the BZVP we need to retrain closer to reality, took the oath in front of the entire battalion, met with the battalion commander and his deputies, and had an individual conversation with a psychologist.

Almost every day, at his own expense, he drove us in his ancient «Lada» to the nearest supermarket, to the post office, and some to the bank, because their cards were blocked, and we needed to get a GZ.

My state since the registration at the CCC has been the most confusing in my entire life. I have been rushing from SZCH to «take your time, take a closer look.» I wanted to have a plan. This is a state of constant anxiety, total distrust of everyone, and at the same time the hope that you will be told something encouraging.

But most of all, it’s the bitter feeling of realizing that no matter what you do now, your old life is over, and only uncertainty and difficult decisions lie ahead.

We were supposed to be sent to the BZVP in two weeks. We only guessed where this training center would be, but no one wanted to go to Desna. I didn’t know anything. Every day the unit was filled with new busifieds with distrustful and anxious faces.

Since we were the first, we unofficially helped them get settled: we showed them where the shower, toilet, and headquarters were, made their beds, brought firewood, and lit stoves.

After a while, it was easier to recognize the new person: a man in a pixelated jacket that was clearly a bit too big for him, wearing berets, but wearing sweatpants, in which he had gone out to buy bread a couple of days ago.

Gradually, we got to know the people serving in the battalion. Almost all of them had been serving since 2022.

But everyone is equally tired, with failing health, a dislike for the forest, and a huge desire to return home.

One day a sergeant came into our house. From his speech, I understood that he was ready.

After some time, he entered the room where only I was.

— Who are you?

— Soldier Taras Bulba (name changed — ed.).

— Do you know that you are already 200? There are already 200 of you here.

I nod in understanding, but remain silent.

— Have you already bought yourself a black bag?

— I haven’t bought it yet.

— Why? Do you have something against me?

— Not at all, I don’t know you personally.

— You don’t know, yes. Give me your points.

I take it off, I give it back.

— I don’t see anyone. On.

The lieutenant returns and leads him out.

But I already noticed. It was an instant lever towards the NWCH.

«Maybe I don’t have much time left. What if there is no BDVP?»

I wrote to a friend who could organize everything: drive up to the unit at night, pick me up. Everything was ready. But I hesitated. Because I didn’t want to become a prisoner in my apartment or be afraid every time I went outside. Not being a very decisive person, I stalled for time.

But after a few days, I still had hope, but this plan never came to fruition.

«Busy?» Company Chief Vasilyevich looks into our room, his eyes on me. Of course, it was a formal question.

— No, no, free.

Vasilyevich invites you to his place, points to a chair in front of the regular laptop.

— Sit down.

I understand that now is my chance to prove that I am really an «IT guy» in his understanding. I sit down. Some broken Excel spreadsheet is open on the screen. Then follows a not-so-intelligible description of what Vasilyevich wants from me:

— So that here it is like this, and then in half, like this, and so that I can enter each day, but so that it doesn’t cross over each time, just a column, and so on for about a minute of explanation.

I ask if there is an example. He shows me a printed magazine with what he needs. I assure him: «we will do it,» and I myself remember the hot keys and commands, because I haven’t worked with Windows, and Excel in particular, for 8 years. Of course, Vasilyevich doesn’t have to know this. He happily goes about his business, and I decide to make a request in ChatGPT, and create a table from scratch according to the sample.

About half an hour later, a tall, 55-year-old sergeant with a sagging face runs in.

— I wish you well. You know how to work with computers, don’t you?

— Of course.

«Come on, you’ll help me.»

I’m giving up on Vasilyevich’s task. I understand that today my authority in information technologies is being formed here.

I go in, sit down at another regular laptop. On the screen is a PDF document with a sign.

«I need to fill it out. Come on, I’ll talk, and you write.»

I see what the problem is, and what he himself failed at. I think about how to explain it to him more easily. I say:

— This is a format where you can’t write like that. It’s like a picture. It needs to be translated into another. But you have an unlicensed version of the program, so I can’t do it in it, I need Internet access. Or maybe you have another format?

«Oh, damn, that’s just fucked up! They fucked me up!»

I didn’t expect such a reaction, I try to calm him down:

— Let me connect you now via my phone, we’ll do everything.

«They’re gone, let them throw something else. I’m not going to fuck with this here!»

He slams his laptop and starts walking somewhere.

I think about how easily this can be solved by downloading all the necessary sample documents in SEVERAL formats onto each regular laptop, and I immediately realize that I want too much.

I return to Vasilyevich’s task. After a while, another sergeant runs in, much younger, I haven’t seen him yet.

— Are you a new IT specialist here?

They probably have some kind of reporting period, I think.

— Yes, there is a little.

— On a flash drive, insert it.

I insert and open the file he needs.

— Do you see why it goes to the second page when it is printed?

I go in and in a couple of clicks I set up printing on one page.

— That’s what I need, thank you. I suffer from this bullshit for half an hour. How did they screw up with these bills!

I say: «no problem, contact us.»

Finally, I finish Vasilyevich’s task, report, and receive a ++ and thank you from him.

I fall asleep grateful to the non-digitalized system of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, the low digital competence of personnel, and the battalion’s crazy bureaucracy.